Sunday, May 6, 2012
the motley singers
I didn't come to faith in a vacuum.You were there,dead poet,hippie singer,saddened widower and your writing,singing,your hand brought me back.This is a love note to you.
The church that I left in the late 60s, I have described before.Liberated in Queens,New York,I left the dogma and the belief in prayer by the wayside on the bridge that goes over the Belt Parkway.With a knowing smile,I went back to our apartment near Kennedy Airport ,kicked off my shoes and happily
wondered what I would do next Sunday between 9 and 10 while the naive priest across the bridge prayed for the North Vietnamese.I quietly settled into the life of a non-believer.
But You,my Lord, had other plans.
In 1969,we,my husband and year old daughter,with green VW bug packed tight,left for the West and Denver to start our new life.I cried until Ohio,never having lived away from home before.Once we settled into our apartment in Montbello I decided to go to church just so my daughter would have some one other than me to play with for a hour.She went to the nursery and I went to Mass and there you were.
A more motley group of young people could hardly be imagined.Singers,maybe five of you ,up front to the side of the altar,serious,long haired,you strummed and sang an Our Father that I have never heard since ,with such feeling,such love that tears came to me,this non-church goer. Every Sunday you were there expecting no applause(in a Catholic Church)just singing your inspired songs and God smiled at me through you.You never knew.
One day,all those who helped me on my journey back to God will be waiting in glory and I will hug you all and never let go.